


Could Someone Tell Me What To Say

by louiscontroll



Series: Fifth Harmony One-Shots [5]
Category: Fifth Harmony (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, F/F, Fluff, One Shot, So I really hope it's good, This fic is like my baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-13
Updated: 2014-03-13
Packaged: 2018-01-15 15:32:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1309930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/louiscontroll/pseuds/louiscontroll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Normani’s different. She always has been. There’s nobody in the world that looks exactly like her and honestly, she thinks that’s a bad thing. She’s floating through life, waiting for something good to happen, when Camila shows up. That’s when she knows that maybe there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Inspired by “The Twilight Zone”  and a lot of my own experiences. Title from “Tongue Tied” by Faber Drive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Could Someone Tell Me What To Say

 

It starts on the day Normani turns four. 

She’s never thought of herself as “different.” Mirrors are far to high up for her to see into, so she’s never really been sure about how she looks. Her parents don’t like letting her out of the house, so she never sees what everyone else looks like, either. She’s only four, so she’s never questioned it. 

Except then, one day, her parents sit her down and say, “Normani, please, listen very closely to what we’re going to tell you.”

“Okay,” she replies, because she honestly doesn’t care what they’re going to say. 

“Normani, you’re - you’re different.”

“Okay.”

“No, honey - you look different. Different than everybody else. You’re very…we’re not sure how it happened, but, if people find out then they might take you away. Do you want to go away?”

“No,” Normani replies immediately, because she likes her parents. They’re nice to her. 

“Then you’re going to have to cover it up.”

“Okay.”

“We’ll talk to you about this again when you’re older.”

“Okay.”

It isn’t okay. 

***

Normani goes to school for the first time when she’s six. Apparently she was supposed to go last year, but her parents didn’t let her - she’s still not sure why, but it might have something to do with the fact that her eyes are brown, and not orange, like her parents’. 

But she goes to school because it would look odd if she didn’t. Her mother’s told her to tell anyone who asks that her eyes are just a “phase” and before she left, her mother put a whole bunch of cream on her face and drew a lot of stuff on her forehead, but Normani doesn’t care. She’s out of the house. She’s finally free. 

Normani’s eagerly greeted by a tall lady and a whole bunch of kids, all of which seem to talk at once. She quickly finds that her voice just blends with theirs - she’s no different. This is where she’s meant to be. Even though a whole bunch of people ask Normani why her eyes aren’t orange, it’s fine, because she just uses the excuse her mother gave her and they seem to back off. 

The tall lady - she calls herself a “teacher” - begins by explaining about a “Mark.” After she draws it on the board, Normani realizes that that’s what her mother drew on her forehead, a weird purple triangle thing. Everyone in the room has one, all looking exactly the same. Apparently they’re supposed to. But Normani doesn’t. She says nothing. 

When the teacher lets them have play time, someone comes up to her and says, “Your eyes are cool. My sister’s eyes looked like yours.”

Normani smiles at the boy, but now she’s got a nagging feeling, like this is dangerous territory they shouldn’t be talking about. But she replies with, “Wow! Thanks. Mine are just a phase, though.”

“My sister’s weren’t.”

Normani feels a strange tug in her heart. “What?”

“They took her away. People came and took her away. Are they going to take you away?”

Normani swallows roughly. She just shakes her head and backs up a little bit, getting away from him, getting as far away as she could. She’s not sure why she’s reacting the way she is, but she doesn’t like what he’s saying. It feels too real, too much, even if she doesn’t understand why. 

She doesn’t want to go away. 

***

Four years pass. Normani barely makes it through, passing with makeup and contact lenses. She understands now why it’s necessary. Every single human on the earth has orange eyes and a Mark on their forehead; Normani has brown eyes and no Mark at all. She can’t explain it. But nobody likes people like her. They aren’t considered “normal.” So she draws a Mark on every morning and pretends to be normal. She’s really good at pretending now. 

She’s now ten years old, and she’s made a few good friends at school. They’re just playing at recess when Jade, a girl in her grade, runs outside and yells, “Quick! Come on! It’s Dinah! It’s Dinah!”

Dinah’s a girl in Normani’s class, so immediately she and her friends run into the school with everyone else, following Jade down to the music room where Dinah’s standing against a wall, everyone crowding around her in a circle, but nobody goes less than five meters from her. When she manages to push her way to the front of the crowd, Normani finally sees why. 

Dinah’s Mark is smudged, and not crystal clear like everyone else’s is. It’s obvious that it’s makeup. Dinah has no Mark. Her eyes are orange, but she’s got no Mark. 

Normani’s ears are ringing because Dinah looks so terrified and what if it wasn’t Dinah, but Normani standing there? What if her makeup smudged and it was revealed she was different? A swell of anxiety forms in her chest. That anxiety, that weight, won’t leave Normani for a long time. 

Someone yells out, “Wrong!” and suddenly everyone’s chanting, their voices like gunshots, yelling “Wrong, wrong, wrong!” and pointing at Dinah. It doesn’t feel real. A tear rolls down Dinah’s cheek. Normani doesn’t say anything, but her lips move in formation with everyone. But she’s not talking to Dinah. She’s talking to herself. 

Sirens roll through Normani’s ears and suddenly rough hands are pushing her aside as men clad in black uniforms come and grab Dinah’s arms and drag her away. Everyone keeps chanting and some people are laughing. The men are taking Dinah away and they’re just laughing like it’s funny. 

Normani goes to bed that night, the image of Dinah still in her mind. There’s nothing she could’ve done. There’s nothing she can do. But it’s still really hard to get up the next morning. 

***

Every day, for five more years, Normani gets a heavy feeling when she wakes up. She feels numb to the world. Nobody else sees it, because nobody else feels it. Normani’s not even sure who she is - she just gets up, puts on her fake face, takes it off and goes to bed. 

She’s found herself to be paranoid, too. She’s always worried that her makeup will be the one to smudge, and then she’ll be Dinah, her back against the wall as men come and take her away. She’s started to shut people away, and she’s become one of those loners at her high school, with no real friends anymore. That’s okay. Less people that can find out. 

But still, it would be nice to just be able to talk to someone. 

She’s sure the weight on her chest isn’t going to go away. She’s doomed to this fate. She’s different, and she can’t even accept it herself. 

Fate is cruel. 

***

The lockers rattle as Normani’s shoved into one of them, causing the entire hallway to laugh. This happens a lot to her - but it’s still embarrassing. A small sound escapes her lips as the jocks who pushed her walk past, laughing and high-fiving each other. 

Everyone stops watching, so she collects her books and begins to walk forwards again, until she feels a sharp cold blast all over her face and body. Someone’s thrown a whole bunch of ice water on her, and although it’s wet and the actual ice blocks in it sting, that’s not her biggest concern. The water’s gotten all over her forehead, and the second she tries to dry it all of her makeup will smudge. Why did she even come to school today?

She’s trapped, and everyone’s watching. 

Several people stand behind her, whispering things like, “What is she doing?” “Who does she think she is?” and “We’re better off not seeing her, anyway.” All Normani’s doing is facing the wall of lockers so that no one will see her makeup is already running, but then she begins to get angry. They’re “better off” not seeing her, huh? Well. Maybe she should make sure they’ll never see her again. 

She’s done hiding. 

With an anger she never knew she had, she turns around and locks her eyes into everyone else’s, all at once. Everyone falls silent. A few drops of water trickle down Normani’s face and she can feel her makeup running, but she doesn’t try to fix it. She just stands there for a second, and nobody moves. 

Normani eyes a teacher standing at the end of the hall, who’s got a phone out and is calling someone, staring at Normani warily. He’s probably calling someone to take Normani away. That’s okay. Normani doesn’t want to stay here anymore.

She hears sirens outside and wonders how people could’ve gotten here so fast. Or maybe it’s been longer - she can’t tell. It might’ve been years. It wasn’t until she saw a camera flash in the corner of her eyes that she got tired of waiting. 

“What are you doing?” she yells, turning towards where the camera was. A girl is taking photos, and even though she knows she’s being yelled at, Normani knows she’s switched to video. It just angers Normani more. “Do you need photos to remember me? Do you need to remember that you did this to me?”

She hears running feet and her breath accelerates. The images of Dinah from so many years ago replay over and over in her head, and she can’t breathe. “You did this to me!” she roars, but she’s not talking to the girl anymore. She’s talking to everyone. She’s talking to everything, and she’s especially talking to whatever created her. “This is your fault! You did this!” 

“She brought it on herself,” someone whispers, and even though she knows the people who are going to take her away are in the school she runs forward and dives onto the person who spoke. She’s still roaring, tears are flying down her face, and she’s still drenched and cold, but she thrusts her fist into their face, the impact hurting her knuckles. A few people scream, and a loud yell comes from the person she’s tackled, but she doesn’t care. She keeps punching blindly, her fist hitting something every time but she’s not sure what. 

Someone wraps their hands around her back and wrenches her off the person, but her vision is spinning and she can’t tell where she is anymore. Cold metal is pressed against her skin and then she’s being hauled up and dragged forwards. 

The crowd behind her chants “wrong” over and over again but she doesn’t bother listening to them. She already knows. 

***

The people who took her load her onto a truck and shut the back so it’s pitch black inside. They take her phone away so she can’t even call her parents. When she doesn’t come home for school, they’ll probably realize what happened. Maybe they’ll even secretly be happy; Normani was a problem, and now she’s been solved. 

Except, what happens to the problem itself when the answer is apparent?

Her hands are still cuffed together, though she’s not sure why. There’s no way she can escape. Even if she could, she wouldn’t try. She just sits, letting the truck roll it’s way to her destination, wherever that is. It takes a long time before the truck stops - Normani’s clothes have practically dried then. She’s already ripped part of her shirt off and wiped the rest of the makeup off her face, and she’s gotten rid of her orange contacts. There’s no point in having them now. 

She’s been sitting in the dark for so long that when the back of the truck finally opens, it’s too bright to even see. She does her them, a girl, say, “Seriously? I thought that we weren’t going to do this anymore. What were you thinking?”

Normani figures that she’s supposed to get out now, so she moves forwards in order to see the girl properly. She’s drop dead gorgeous, with long, wavy hair and brown eyes. Her forehead is bare. She’s like Normani - she has no Mark. 

“Hi,” she says, offering a hand to Normani. “I’m Camila. Sorry that you’re, uh, here on such circumstances.” 

Normani takes her hand and slides out of the truck, her muscles stiff from not moving around. She’s in a yard, and the truck is parked in a driveway - she’s actually just in front of a regular suburban house. There are houses all along the street, looking very similar to the one Normani’s in front of, and a regular, paved road stretches down far in both directions. A few trees grow in the yards. It looks normal. 

“I’m Normani,” Normani says. “Where…what is this?”

“This is a safe house,” Camila replies, her hand still firmly planted in Normani’s. Normani can’t say she minds too much. “For people like us. The ones that look different.”

“Am I just supposed to stay here?” She wants to. 

“Yes,” Camila replies. “Come on and meet everyone.”

“What if I don’t want to?” She does, though. 

“Then I guess you’ll go back to society,” Camila shrugs. “But. We both know you don’t want to do that.”

“So we’re hiding?” She likes that idea. 

“I guess,” Camila laughs. “But everyone knows that this street is just full of safe houses. Why else do you think no one’s driving on the road?”

It’s true. No one is. There are no sounds, save for their voices. “Okay,” Normani says. “I’ll stay.” It wasn’t a hard decision. She made it the moment she saw Camila. 

“Good,” Camila says. The truck that Normani came in revs up and rumbles away, leaving them behind. “They were just people that help us,” Camila says, answering the question Normani hasn’t asked yet. “They patrol around town and wait for a call.”

Camila pulls Normani forwards and they step inside the house, entering a lobby of sorts. Three pairs of shoes sit by the door, and Camila adds hers to the pile. With a bit of prompting, Normani takes hers off and sits them on the end of the row. It’s the first time someone’s asked her to belong. 

“Cabello!” someone shouts, and then a girl’s running down the stairs that are to Normani’s left. She’s got a bare forehead and her eyes aren’t orange, either. Normani can’t help but think she knows her, too. “She’s finally here, huh?”

“Cabello’s my last name,” Camila whispers before saying, “Yeah, Dinah. See! I knew they’d bring her here and not next door. You owe me ten bucks.”

“We both know that’s never happening,” Dinah laughs. 

“Wait…Dinah Jane? Dinah Jane Hansen?” Normani asks slowly, her eyes searching Dinah’s face. 

“Yeah,” Dinah says. “And who are you?”

“I’m Normani. Kordei. I…we were in fifth grade together. I saw you being taken.” Normani feels a weight leaving her chest. The images of Dinah, so scared and small, finally leave her.

Dinah stops for a second and then nods. “I think - I think I remember you. Sorry, I - it was a long time ago. I don’t try to remember that year.”

“That’s okay,” Normani says. “I know what you mean.”

“Lauren! Ally!” Dinah calls. Two other girls descend the staircase after a few seconds. They also have bare foreheads, and their eyes are not orange. 

“Hi,” the girl called Lauren says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too,” Normani replies. “So…I hate to ask the dumb question, but we just…live here?”

“Yeah,” Ally nods. “Forever, actually. There’s a group of 40 to 50 year olds down the road a ways - they’re the oldest ones here. We don’t need jobs. We still go to a school, one just for us. It’s our own world.”

Normani’s too stunned to say anything. If she had known something like this existed…she would’ve gone a long time ago. She can’t even find herself missing her parents too much. They were nice, and they never yelled at her, but they never cared. Not enough. 

Camila puts a hand on Normani’s shoulder and smiles. “Hey,” she says. “It gets easier. Come on, let’s go to your room.”

***

It’s been two years. Normani sits on the roof of the house, staring into the night. Her old contacts, the ones she used to wear every day, are in her hands. She wants to throw them off the roof - it’s a ritual here - but she just can’t. Some part of her is hanging on to what she had, even if it sucked.

“Hey,” someone says. Normani turns her head slightly to see Camila sit down on the roof next to her. “I noticed your window open and I figured you’d come out here. What’s up?”

“The stars are really bright tonight,” Normani sighs. 

“Yeah,” Camila says, laughing a little. “But you don’t come out here to look at the stars. Too cold for that.” Camila looks down and notices what’s in Normani’s hands. “You still have them? I thought…I thought you got rid of them over a year ago.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. I wish I did.”

“Can I see them?” Normani shrugs and places them in Camila’s palm. It takes maybe a second before Camila swings her arm back and tosses them away, over the roof, into the yard of the safe house next door. 

“Why did you do that?” Normani exclaimed, surprised, but somehow relieved. 

“Because sometimes it’s better to have a friend help you out,” Camila says. “then shouldering it all on your own.”

Camila stands up - a dangerous thing to do on a roof - and offers her hand to Normani. Slowly, Normani takes it, a small smile spreading across her face. “Maybe you’re right.”

Normani finally feels free. She likes it.

***

“Do I have to?” Normani sighs. “I have…like…things to do…”

“Uh-uh,” Dinah says, laughing as she ran a comb through her unruly hair. “The newbie welcomes the newbie. I’m sorry, that’s just how it is.”

“I’ve been here for two and a half years,” Normani says dryly. “I’m hardly the ‘newbie.’”

“You’re the new-est, then,” she shrugs. “Same difference. Just go, bring them inside. They’re going to be scared, probably, and anxious. You just have to convince them to stay.”

“And how am I going to do that?”

“Have I taught you nothing?” Camila scoffed, coming into the room. “Just do what I did. I got you to stay, didn’t I?”

“I already wanted to stay, though.”

Camila gives her a wink and then goes about preparing her breakfast. “Fine,” Normani sighs, but secretly, she doesn’t care. As she’s walking out, Lauren and Ally come by her, holding hands. “Be nice,” Ally warns Normani. 

“When am I not?” she replies, laughing. 

Unnecessarily, Lauren bends down and gives Ally a kiss. The two had been dating for a year, and they were never afraid to show it. “Oh, get a room,” Normani sighs, but she’s smiling. 

“You’re one to talk,” Lauren laughs, and she scoops Ally up and carries her into the kitchen. Lauren’s got a point there. Camila was right there, in the kitchen, and well…it was hard to leave. 

Normani goes outside and she waits for the truck to come and bring whoever would be staying with them. It was most likely going to be a girl, but they couldn’t be sure. 

She hasn’t been waiting long when the truck rolls up. Thankfully, Normani can see a girl riding in the backseat, and not in the dark back. It took a lot of persuasion to get that to change. She walks over and opens the door, inhaling sharply, and then offering her hand. “My name’s Normani,” she says. “Nice to meet you.” The girls’ eyes are still orange, though Normani knows it’s because of contacts - there is no fake Mark on her forehead. 

“Kat,” the girl says. “My name’s Kat…” It takes a second, but Kat puts her hand in Normani’s and gets out of the truck. “What is this place?”

“Call it a safe house, if you want,” Normani says. “It’s a place where you can be who you want to be. You will be safe here.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Normani says, and she truly believes it herself. She can feel Camila’s eyes boring holes into her back and she turns for a second, smiling with her eyes too. She really means it. 

“It gets easier,” she says, turning to Kat. “I promise you, it gets so much easier.”


End file.
